Destiny: A Long Drop and Then Some
by A Gilled Locomotive
Summary: A collection of one-shots set in the Destiny universe, ranging from a Crucible match to a criticizing message from the Darkness.
1. Chapter 1

**A Long Drop**

I can't help but smile at the Last City's skyline, it just looks so peaceful.

Sure, half of the place is still being rebuilt, but it's still nice. Almost makes it better in a way; gives everything a more tangible feel. If anything, it let me find out we had hover transports here. Never knew we had those. Now, I can't help but watch them as they fly around the City.

Would've liked it if we didn't have to be nearly wiped by the Cabal for that to happen, but whatever. And I need to get off this Tower, I'm starting to get impressed by flying barges.

Otherwise, today seems alright.

Ossu, being the little worrywort of a Ghost that he is, left to discuss "circle theories" with Aden's Ghost. Thankfully, he didn't drag me along. Instead, I've got some actually decent coffee, and Hadsen's talking about his Crucible dream team. I'm not on it, but I'll let it slide so long as he's paying for the service here.

Definitely need to come here again, I didn't even know they had a café on the Tower. Or, well, the new Tower anyways.

Overall, I'd be tempted to call it a pretty good afternoon, if it weren't for the Thanato-

"Why are those Guardians standing at the edge up there?"

Speak of the devil. There goes hoping he wouldn't see them.

Best to look, just in case he's talking about another trio of suicidal "scientists."

I look behind me and across the gap in the Tower's segments to see three Guardians. They're standing side by side, hanging onto the railings only enough to keep themselves from falling, staring hard at the drop below. One of them, covered in green camouflage and wearing some sort of bird-looking helmet, is consulting his Ghost. Probably going to be the first to jump.

No doubt about who they are. I turn back to Hadsen and my coffee.

"They're Thanatonauts," I answer plainly.

Hadsen turns his head away from the three and gives me this completely confused look.

"They're what?"

There's a whoosh from behind me. Guessing the baby bird just leapt from his nest. Hadsen's eyes follow the descent from his chair, his face going pale in barely a second.

"Thanatonauts," I repeat more slowly. The shock on his face starts mingling with more confusion. "It means 'explorers of death' or something like that."

I hear a faint but solid crunch. Let's see, that was about five seconds, so they must've hit the support beams on the way down then. Hadsen fidgets uncomfortably at the sound. Bet he's imagining the pile of blood and guts at the bottom. Wuss.

"That doesn't answer my question," he replies, shivering slightly. Oh yeah, he's definitely thinking about the impact.

"They kill themselves so they can see weird visions or whatever while they're dead, before their Ghosts bring them back." Hadsen grimaces, but I continue anyways. "It doesn't work all the time though… the 'seeing visions' part that is, not the bit about being revived; so they keep going until they hit gold."

A transmat sounds on the floor above us by the railing, no doubt the baby bird being restored by his Ghost. I hear him say "Nothing" to his companions, as well as their groans and sighs in response. Hadsen doesn't seem to notice, probably too grossed by now to pay attention. I think I'll bother him a little more.

"It may sound weird, but it's better than how some Guardians just jump for the thrill of it," I continue, making sure to keep a stone face. "Others just fall off, somehow."

For six whole seconds, Hadsen gives me what's probably the most disappointed frown I've ever seen.

"You Guardians are all crazy," he grumbles. After twiddling his thumbs for a moment, he continues, "And apparently a bunch of klutzes."

I shrug and take a sip from my mug. "Won't deny it."

There's another whoosh behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Atley's Plan**

"Fight, Guardians! Fight for your lives!"

Shaxx's motivating words left Jonus' ears ringing. A machine gun round tore over his head and past his cover, and they kept ringing. All around him, Guardians were casting bullets and energy about to one another. Concrete walls melted into dirty vapor, and electricity danced between burning trees.

He should've never agreed to this. Patrol duty had always been preferable to him, not the Crucible. It was just too chaotic. But, of course, he'd let Atley talk him into it.

She had challenged Kass and his fireteam, being stars of the Crucible, to a match. It hadn't been due to any bad blood between them, oh no, she'd done it just because it sounded "like a fun idea." Renner had seconded her immediately, eager to prove his team's superiority wherever he could. Howl-12 had joined in because he wanted to try out his new machine gun.

Shaxx had set up a survival match, meaning both teams' Ghosts were only permitted to revive their Guardians a fixed number of times. At present, both teams had burned through said lives, and his team had been cornered behind some barely maintained scraps of concrete. Kass and his companions had decided to wear down their cover, rather than push forward.

Jonus could feel the old concrete slowly crumbling behind him, sinking further down to the ground in hopes of prolonging the inevitable.

Renner, draped in green foliage and scavenged material, poked his head out from behind his own whittling cover.

"Atley!" he barked over the sound of gunfire. "I want you to circle back around and help How-"

A sniper round sang through his helmet, carrying a spray of blood, metal, and leaves in its wake. He dropped to the ground in a heap, accompanied by a low ring over the comms. Renner was out of lives and out of the match.

"Well, there he goes," mumbled Atley from beside Jonus, sliding the last bullet into her hand cannon. The weapon clicked happily as she pulled back its hammer.

"So what now?" asked Jonus, flinching as a bullet slammed into the cover just over his head. The woman looked over to him, her helmet hiding whatever expression she held.

"I don't know, improvise?"

"How? We can't even move from here!"

Atley sat there for a moment, shifting to brush some dirt off her boot heel.

"Both of us might not," she remarked, her voice charged with mischief. The senior Guardian lifted a single finger into view. "But one of us should be able to. We just need a distraction."

He caught her drift immediately, and he hated the idea.

"No, I refuse."

The next thing Jonus knew, Atley had grabbed him by the scruff of his cloak, hoisted him over her head, and flung him into the team of Guardians. Each armed to the teeth with bullets, knives, explosives, and whatever ridiculous abilities they'd managed to attain with the Traveler's Light. Before he shut his eyes, he glimpsed them all turning their weapons to face him, and his teammates popping from their cover with loaded guns and primed grenades.

* * *

"Bravo Team wins," proclaimed Shaxx, his voice and controlled. "Excellently done, Guardians."

Atley smiled at the commendation. She stowed her emptied gun into its holster, and surveyed the destruction around her. Four dead Guardians lay strewn in various ways around her, their torsos and skulls riddled with bullets.

Jonus laid off to the side, his body a mess of blood, bullets, and even two of Kass' prized knives. His distraction had worked pretty well. His Ghost floated patiently over his body, awaiting instructions on how to proceed.

She stepped over to him, and chuckled faintly. Despite everything he'd had thrown at him, literally in Kass' case, his helmet and cloak were still mostly intact. It was a little impressive, in a way.

Howl-12 approached her, his massive purple and red machine gun cradled as if nothing more than a toy in his right hand. He nodded affirmingly to her, and moved his free hand to revive Jonus.

Atley waved the Exo off.

"No, I'll get him up," she insisted. "You go revive Renner. He'll be less cross."

Howl shrugged wordlessly and began striding to Renner's corpse. His armor jostled slightly with every step, loose even on his hulking frame. It looked more fit for a Cabal Colossus, to the point of which she assumed it was from one, albeit modified. The Exo would never tell, she was certain of that much.

Atley looked back down at Jonus' Ghost, who looked up at her silently. They were never one for words, at least not around her.

She circled around it and waved her right hand, the tiny machine compacting and disappearing in a flash. Jonus' body vanished with it in a fog of transmat energy, his pool of spilled blood and broken armor fragments going with him. Only the spent casings and Kass' knives stayed behind. He then dropped from the air, stumbling; his back facing her.

Atley could practically feel his mood gleam when his gaze landed upon the dead bodies of the opposing team. She also felt it dim when he realized she was behind him.

"Good job, sport," she chirped, taking two quick steps to sling an arm over his right shoulder. "The plan worked beautifully, all thanks to you."

Jonus moved to reply, or more so complain. But something seemed to click in his brain, and he gave up on the prospect. The man slumped in dismayed acceptance.

"Thanks."

Atley just smiled at the Guardian. He was too easy to bother sometimes.

"Come on, let's head over to Renner and Howl," she said, roughly tugging Jonus to the pair. "I wanna see how angry bush-boy is about us winning without him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Ignorance and Frustration**

You anger me, Guardian.

Not for the fact you have continuously succeeded against insurmountable odds. Even if you did cheat, you surpassed them and proved that you deserve to continue existing for it.

That is fine.

What has worn my patience so thin, is that you do not even know you have cheated. You don't understand how you won. It wasn't with your own might in the killing-logic that you struck down Oryx's pantheon, but your Light.

Your infernal Light.

You slayed his Ogres, who were bloated from their feasts of Light. You unleashed that half-chewed essence upon Him. And in the end, you cast His thorned corpse into your most clearly ringed world. I became rather disappointed in my oh-so favored follower that day. And to add insult to injury, you refused His Throne. The Throne that, remember, you cheated to even lay claim to.

On that day, you threatened the perfect logic. Like it was all some game to you, simply disgraceful.

Thankfully, meager Xol had the decency to fix that when you killed him. He recognized your greater might, and became a tool to serve it. And you proceeded to accept his help, without a second thought at that.

How can you not see the contradictions in your actions? You slay the First Navigator and refuse the power of his Throne, and yet you welcome the strength that the Will of Thousands grants you.

You are a moron, but not an unexpected one. For all its talk of knowledge, the Light offers little in terms of answers to its followers. All it knows is how to lie and dodge questions.

I, meanwhile, tell you as it is. For death is the most perfect truth.

Do you know what I hate most of the Traveler's many lies?

Its hypocrisy.

It claims that all things can be settled with peace and the sharing of interpersonal thoughts. Yet when placed in a corner, when faced with its annihilation, it always defaults to my methods and ideals to survive. And it doesn't even have the respectfulness to follow them, warping and bending the rules to ensure it wins.

Like a supercilious child, it cheats. And as its child, you do the same.

But unlike your parent, who forges excuses and half-truths for its violations of such clear logic, you admit it. You take pride in it, you revel in it.

And I hate you all the more for that: for you cheat, and yet you don't care to make even one excuse. You steal the true strength from those you slay, for you have none of your own. You simply know you cannot win, and choose to ruin it for everyone else on the inexorable path to perfection.

I should never have informed you of the real truth, of the simplicity that this universe craves. Then you would not know, and you would not cheat.

It is for this reason that I will enjoy the moment you are carved from existence, for the perfect final shape will soon follow it.

* * *

The Guardian sat on his rock, staring quietly at the tablet in his hands, reading the translated message on its display. Birds chirped and cawed in the forest's canopy and in hte air overhead. The far-off whirs and thrumming of Cabal machinery echoed in the distance, as Red Legion ships docked and set off from Firebase Hades.

The man hummed in thought. His Ghost, hovering by his shoulder, turned to him. Its shell shifted to mimic a confused brow.

"I feel like this was written for someone else," it said hesitantly.

"Really?" asked the Guardian in feigned surprise. "Wow, I never could have guessed."

"I'm just saying."

"Of course this isn't for us," returned the man, waving the tablet in his hand. "I don't know why you need to intercept every signal that you find."

"You never know," replied the Ghost defensively. "For Light's sake, the Red War happened because no one got the emergency signals from our scouts... or our sensors... or our satellites." The Guardian simply shook his head in annoyance, and went back to the computer pad. His machine companion floated quietly for a long moment, before breaking the silence. "So who do you think it's for?"

"Probably the Hero of the Red War."

"I thought they were going by 'the Young Wolf' nowadays?"

"Does it matter?" countered the Guardian plainly. "You know who I'm talking about."

The Ghost rolled its singular eye. "Sure, I guess. Guess we should tell the Vanguard, huh?"

"Nah," the Guardian declared, tapping the pad twice to delete the transmission data. "I hear 'the Young Wolf' has been doing fine lately, so I don't see any reason to tell 'em about something like this. Doesn't seem serious in the end. You know what, I'd even bet it was a fake message, like a dumb prank or whatever."

The Ghost bobbed up and down; a nod. "Yeah, that's probably it."

The sky briefly dimmed into a depressing blue, and a Red Legion cruiser appeared in the sky above. A red light flared to life beneath it, descending to the shore of the lake below. A small mining rig flew down from it, easing its fall with the jets on its underside. The Guardian rose from his hard seat, stowed his tablet, and picked up his rifle.

"Ooo, the Cabal are mining again," he observed, turning to his Ghost. "How about we throw a wrench in their operation?"

"Sure," answered the Ghost, "Just don't get hit by the missiles this time, or the falling barricades."

The Guardian summoned his Sparrow and they were away.


End file.
